Stepping into the Hotel had the same approximate feel to it as waking up to street construction with four fucking vodka headaches at the same time.
Rani’s first instinct was to cover her ears with her gloved hands. Of course, since just as much of the psychic noise was coming in through her, say, forehead, this wasn’t much help.
Her second instinct was to try to psionically stabilize her teammates before they were all lost in the jitter, but since she’d wasted the first few seconds on the ear-covering thing, all she came up with was Mina, who she’d managed to physically grab by the wrist before she could disappear. “Fuck,” Rani said, looking around. They were on a beach somewhere. There were palm trees.
“This isn’t exactly what I expected,” Mina agreed. “Where did the others go?”
“I have no fucking idea. This place is a psychometric nightmare.” Rani tried to concentrate. It was like trying to eavesdrop in a Rimbor City techno club. “This might have been a mistake.”
“You’re wearing your Octavian cape,” Mina said.
“Shit.” Rani gave a mental twitch and it was gone. At least the place conformed to her will even better than most magical constructs. “I’ll have to watch that. Your hair is red again.”
“Is that a problem?”
“Nah. Looks good both ways.” Rani let go of Mina’s arm--she had the young sorceress on the same psionic wavelength by now--and tried taking off one of her gloves. Her headache increased, but so did her control. “You know,” she said rhetorically, “I don’t even like real hotels.”
“Can you find Ebreth?” said Mina. “I really need to talk to him.”
“I don’t know.” Rani took off her other glove and stuffed them both into her jeans pockets. “I’m a detective, not a planeblazer. I wish Garal was here.”
“I’m not sure planeblazing would help,” Mina said philosophically. “From what Arthur Paris said, this is more of an interior space.”
“Well, I’m even worse at that.” She frowned at the nearest door, and it opened obligingly. “But I guess I’m the best you’ve got. Follow me, and keep close.”
Micmac artists
